


Affirmation

by Littlebiscuits



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Conversations, John's recruitment video, Love, M/M, Religious Themes, artistic vision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 08:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16342979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlebiscuits/pseuds/Littlebiscuits
Summary: "Is this the best time to try and reach people, with low budget recruitment videos from inside Eden's Gate?"





	Affirmation

Rook should really get out of bed, make a call to the Resistance and let them give him a mission, meet up with some of the others, liberate something, stop some Peggie kidnappings, or rescue someone from Bliss-addled bears. He should do something that proves he is still actually a member of the Resistance. Something to prove he's still one of theirs. 

Because, more often than not, Rook ends up making a detour to the Seed Ranch, and that usually leads to him ending up in John Seed's bed. Which he realises, makes it sound like a mistake, or a bad habit, and not something that he's been encouraging, that he's been fighting to keep for a while now, something he finds himself wanting when he's half a county away. Until Rook can't call it anything other than a relationship. So, yes, they've been having a relationship. All the pieces of it they can get away with, meeting up whenever the destruction in the valley reaches a low enough simmer that they're not biting at each other. There are guarded radio calls, pointed messages through semi-official broadcasts, flirtatious threats, and one memorable investigation as to what was possible inside the cramped cockpit of a plane. Which had left Rook with a black eye that he couldn't explain to any of his companions, and the strangely warm memory of John Seed's ridiculous laughter. 

At this point it feels like Rook's trying to win some sort of trophy for 'most stupid decisions made while fighting a heavily armed cult.' 

So, yes, his plan for the day is to take a mission, any mission, for the Resistance, to make him feel less guilty about where he spent the night. Preferably something not too far away, so he has time for coffee and ten more minutes sprawled on his face on this really very nice bed, with one of John's legs slipped through his own. 

After all, it's the end of the world, according to Joseph, so there's a slim, outside chance that none of his stupid decisions will matter in the long run.

The mattress moves under him, before there's a warm hand sliding over the base of his spine, curling to catch at his waist, pulling slowly like John thinks they have all the time in the world, and aren't both actually bound by the cause of the next explosion. But Rook lets John pull himself in, until he can lean his weight against Rook's back, and there's wet pressure on the curve of his neck, a second hand in his hair, fingers drawing through it like a temptation.

Rook can absolutely get behind that idea.

"Now that I have you here." John's other hand is still moving, and Rook's pretty sure he knows where this is going. "Now that I have your attention, there's something I wanted to discuss with you."

Rook makes a vaguely mournful noise into the pillow, because that's less promising. That's not the sort of thing that ever ends well, and he's not sure he's awake enough to refuse to be in a cult. He's probably going to agree to a baptism when John does obscene things to him, again, and it had taken forever to convince John that coerced agreements to be baptised don't fucking count. 

"I still don't want to join Eden's Gate," Rook says.

John breathes warm amusement against his throat, as if that's another conversation, for later, one that John intends to win eventually. But he flattens a hand on Rook's back and uses it to push himself upright, bed jumping slightly when he leaves it, taking all his warmth away, which is...disappointing.

Rook rolls over and complains, audibly, at John already being at least six feet away. He's already pacing between their scattered clothing.

"No, not that, there's time for that. I've been thinking about making a new video and I need your input, your honesty. As someone not already in the embrace of Eden's Gate, as someone who hasn't yet come to Joseph, and accepted the truth of his words."

Rather than making a remark about coming to Joseph, that John probably wouldn't appreciate, Rook pushes himself upright, leans back against the headboard. Because John has the sort of restless energy that suggests Rook will probably need to have opinions, or at least remember things. He scrubs a hand through his hair until it settles into some sort of order, and sighs.

"Is this the best time to try and reach people, with low budget recruitment videos from inside Eden's Gate?" 

John's smile drops briefly at 'low budget' before it reforms, determined, for the end of Rook's question.

"This is the perfect time, there's chaos out there, chaos that you had something of a hand in causing, and people need reassurance. They need to know that we are not angry, that they will not be punished for being afraid, that there is a place for them, no matter what they've done."

John presses a knee onto the end of the bed, hands reaching until Rook catches one of them instinctively, draws him back in, and John's kiss is enthusiastic but distracted.

"That's going to be my theme," John tells him. "Forgiveness, second chances, because I understand better now, I understand what Joseph was trying to tell me. I understand what he meant about letting myself love people, about letting people in, about giving back, even when it hurts you, even when you think it's going to tear you to pieces."

Rook gives a confused nod of agreement, because John is clearly into this, and it's probably not going to end with anyone being skinned, so he feels compelled to encourage it. Even though half the county is on fire, ergo half of the televisions people needed to watch John's recruitment video on are probably also on fire.

But John squeezes his hands, hard enough to make his knuckles complain, as if Rook's barely coherent show of support means something to him, before he's easing away again, stepping back off the bed.

"You're going to help me, I want you to be part it." John points, like that's some sort of cue for Rook to do something. Which is amusing in some way, but not exactly helpful. Because it's not like Rook can just show up in one of John's videos.

"John -"

"Oh, I don't expect you to be in it, don't worry. But I want to talk it out with you, and you can tell me what you think."

Rook is awake now, whether he likes it or not. But John has released prisoners for him. The least he can fucking do is listen to his no doubt overly dramatic ideas about what constitutes welcoming and non-threatening advertisements for the cult.

"Ok, fine, play it out for me."

John's smile is almost worth it already. He pushes back, spreads his arms.

"Picture me, in front of the sign, framed between the Y and the E - no, just after the S. Like it's the answer to all your questions."

"All the questions that require a yes or no answer," Rook points out.

" _Helping_ ," John reminds him sharply. "Don't be fucking difficult."

Rook sits up straighter, pulls the sheet into his lap. "Right, helping." He tries to sound apologetic.

John's pacing slowly at the end of the bed now, though he still hasn't bothered to put any clothes back on, his own nudity doesn't seem to bother him. Rook isn't going to pretend that it bothers him either. John's nudity is a gift, and it's a good way to ensure his attention, if not exactly the best way to ensure his concentration.

"I thought that this time, I could be standing in front of the sign." John turns, strikes a contained, contemplative pose that Rook recognises from the first grainy introduction he'd had to John Seed's drama and madness. "And the camera pushes in on me, I'm smiling, approachable, I'm welcoming people in." 

"Are you wearing clothes in this video?" Rook asks, and he's smiling, because at the moment he's picturing a very different recruitment video. One that Joseph would not approve of. "Because much as I appreciate your naked enthusiasm, I don't particularly want to share it with the whole county."

John looks like he really wants to snipe at Rook for the interruption, but he knows there's a messy compliment in there, something almost possessive, and John likes it too much to bite at it. 

"Yes, I am wearing clothes, pay attention. Me and the sign." John gestures at an imaginary sign behind him, back muscles flexing invitingly, waist a long twist of ink and skin.

Honestly, the only reason Rook hadn't set John's stupid sign on fire weeks ago, is because he's ridiculously attached to it. It has meaning beyond the obvious, and Rook knows John would take its destruction personally, rather than business as usual. This is Rook's own fault for sleeping with the enemy, like every stupid cliche in the book.

"Right, you and the sign."

"Me and the sign," John agrees. "I did think about acquiring a drone, having it sweep across the landscape, capturing its beauty, before eventually closing in on me. But the Resistance keep _shooting things down_ , and I only have two cameras left. It's getting harder to bring in things from the outside."

Rook knows the feeling, things like the fire department, or medical attention, or armed soldiers. It's like the rest of the country has ceased to exist. 

But he sighs, because why the fuck not?

"You could always attach the camera to a zipline, put a mini-brake on it, have it travel down towards you slowly," Rook suggests.

John's waving hands clench into fists, smile opening out.

"Yes, that's perfect, this is the sort of thing I do not get when I try and talk about this with my followers, genuine, helpful suggestions. Though the angle would be fixed, it may make framing difficult."

Rook thinks about it for a minute.

"No, it makes it better, you make sure you're at the bottom of the mountain, camera comes down, closes in on you, someone's at the end of the zipline to slowly tilt the camera up, once it reaches the bottom. Big giant 'Yes' appears over your head in the distance." Honestly, you probably can't get more dramatic than that. John does love his ridiculous drama.

"Oh, that's beautiful," John says breathlessly. He spreads his hands like he can see it, smile stupidly wide. "Yes." 

He steps back a little, as if he's trying to make space for all the imaginary mountains, and Rook can't help laughing, just a little, at how pleased he looks.

"And surrounding me I need followers, loyal followers, part of Joseph's congregation, but this time joyful, content, people I can reach out and touch. We need -"

"Better actors?" Rook suggests.

John's mouth pinches, as if he thinks Rook is making fun of him, and, he might be, a little bit, but mostly the suggestion is genuine. Because the last video's congregation had been hilariously wooden, like a bunch of hairy mannequins.

"Not you, the Peggies. They just kind of stood around nodding and clapping, and not always at the right parts. Also, it's kind of weird that you're the only one who doesn't look like they've lived in a cave for the last twenty years. You could maybe - I don't know - comb some of them. Also, the Eden's Gate outfits mostly just say 'we're going to burn everything you own, and then drag you off for torture and brainwashing.' I think the entire county has developed some sort of angry Pavlovian response to them now."

John makes an irritated noise, like he knows Rook's right, but refuses to acknowledge as much when he's not taking this seriously. Though this may become a problem when he discovers that the Peggies have burned all of the nice clothes in the county. God forbid Eden's Gate become the cult of flannel and forty year old band t-shirts.

"I'm sure we could find some moderately clean members of the congregation," John allows, with grudging reluctance.

"If not you could just dunk them in the river, you're pretty good at that."

Rook can see John's teeth clench from here. Though honestly, that just reminds him how good John looks when he's angry and naked. There's probably some sort of important life lesson there, about healthy relationships, that Rook is completely failing to learn.

"If you insist on mocking -"

"No, I'm sorry," Rook makes a point of leaning forward, making it look like he's listening properly. "I know this is important to you. I promise I'll stop, So you have the setting, you have the followers. What about background music, orchestral stuff, or singing, didn't someone write a song for you?" He vaguely remembers seeing something, in a note he picked up in the wild.

John looks surprised, then strangely pleased as if he hadn't realised Rook had known about that. Which seems to earn him John's forgiveness, his willingness to keep pulling Rook along on his theatrical journey.

"This time I'm thinking of taking advantage of the natural sounds." John gestures towards the balcony, where Hope County stretches into the distance. 

The man does have a beautiful view from his bedroom, Rook will give him that. Not so bad from where Rook's sitting either, with John facing the mountain, turned into the light, a curving line all the way from his shoulder to his bare ass. 

"We want people to see and hear Eden." John turns around again, moves back towards the bed. "A fresh start, a new beginning."

Rook agrees with a short noise, because that actually seems like a good idea.

"I'm sure you could find somewhere in the county that didn't sound like gunfire and explosions," Rook tells him. Though he's become almost immune to both of those, no the only sound that still scares him is that chittering hiss that tends to make him stab his gun at the undergrowth. 

He's tempted to ask if Eden will have wolverines, on one hand no wolverines is always good, but on the other he doesn't want to cause the extinction of an entire species, no matter how fucking evil they are.

"What about the theme, I'm assuming there are no tied up hostages in this one. Please don't put tied up hostages in it." Because Rook's pretty sure that contributed to at least half of the silos that got blown up. The other half were all him, because he'd had to start somewhere.

John tips his head in acknowledgement. "I understand how that may have sent the wrong message. But you did provoke me, set a match to an already tense situation. Which, might I remind you, was partially your fault in the first place." 

"Something we have differing opinions on, and can discuss later. Just, please, just say there are no tied up hostages." Rook's going to have to disapprove if there are, and he hates to disapprove when John's being creative. 

"There will be no hostages, tied up or otherwise." John makes it sound like something he's doing just to make Rook happy. Which, fuck it, Rook will take at this point.

"Great, so the body of the thing, your sermon, your narration - closing statement." Rook waves encouragement.

John laughs. "I'm still piecing it together, deciding how I want to leave it, the message I want people to remember."

"Try it on me," Rook tells him.

"It's not finished." John looks suddenly reluctant, which isn't like him at all, he's never passed up the opportunity to talk before. Not since Joseph hushed him by the river "It's really just a first draft at the moment, themes I want to cover, revelations that have come to me. It's not polished yet."

Rook moves to the end of the bed, one foot on the floor, close enough that he can stretch a hand out and touch him if he wants to, and John drifts closer, clearly intending to let him if he tries.

"This is why you wanted to tell me about it," Rook reminds him. "To give you my thoughts, and my honest opinion. We have a setting, and now I have to hear the pitch." Which Rook is starting to realise he's kind of looking forward to, and not just because Rook likes to hear John talk, he has a good voice, and he should get to use it for more than threatening speeches through the radio, and promises of bloody violence. 

No, because this might be the closest to happy that John has ever felt in Rook's presence, all creative energy and potential. He's not smiling that slightly fixed, practiced smile that seems designed to upset people, and even his bitten-off insults are soft, affectionate.

"Let me hear it, John."

John looks like he might protest again, and Rook doesn't know whether it's because he thinks Rook will mock him again, or because it really is just a mess of thoughts that John isn't satisfied with. Or maybe John hopes that this message will convince Rook, in some way, to join them, and he isn't ready for the possibility of failure.

"Fine." John sighs out a breath, he leans down and pushes at Rook's chest, encouraging him to settle back and be the audience he's determined to be. "Just don't expect it to be perfectly coherent, I haven't written a script yet, and I'll probably change a lot of it later." John takes a step back, brings his hands together and schools his face into something much calmer, focuses all his attention on Rook. 

The introduction is a little awkward, given to an entire county, rather than just to Rook, but John's first words are soft, earnest, as if John's talking to the people who've already committed to Joseph, as well as the people trying desperately to stay out of his reach.

"Today it is I that must ask for your forgiveness. I've been too harsh, I've pushed too hard, dug too deep, let my own sin drive me, in my determination to save people, my determination to do good. I was wrong. But I know that I can do better, that I can show you. Because atonement should always be about _you_ , about _your_ sins, about _your_ path to salvation. It needs a determined, but gentle hand, a push from a place of love, of faith." 

Rook settles back on his hands, because it's a good start, better than the first one, which was a little creepy and suggestive, vaguely threatening. If Rook hadn't spend the last few months exposed to the judgement of Eden's Gate, the madness, the wild animals trained to tear his face off and the constant fanatical violence, he might have given John his time.

John looks like he wants to walk, like he probably intends to, when this finally comes together on film. But for now, he's stuck with moving slightly from the balcony doors to the bed. Anyone else probably wouldn't be able to pull it off while naked, but John's relaxed, slow confidence makes it seem entirely natural.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, deserves to be forgiven for past wrongs, for past misdeeds. I fully intend to do better, to follow the will of the Father, to guide you, to love you. I want you to trust me to show you the way."

Rook can tell John is following his own flow now, words coming easily and it's weird to be so close, to see it performed with no barriers, no props, just John's earnest honesty. He finds himself leaning forward, watching the slow hand gestures that reach out, like Rook is some stranger, who might need to confess something.

"So you can become someone new, so you can start again, cleansed of all sin. When someone has been trying to teach you, trying to make you see that you are worthy of love, and you have resisted, you haven't understood -"

John stops suddenly, words falling away like he's lost his place. He frowns, and looks at Rook, as if he thinks he might be able to help him, as if he might know where this is going. Rook waits, patiently, for him to continue, and eventually he does.

"I understand -" John's voice is rougher than before, words coming more slowly, as if he'd forgotten half of them. "I understand what Joseph meant - I understand what the Father meant, when he encouraged me to love them, when he told me where my sin would lead me, if I didn't see what I was doing. When he told me to love those who come to us, to love them and use that to guide their journey, to help them. Because the thought of leaving them behind when the collapse comes - the thought of making that journey to Eden, and not having them with me - with us -"

Rook feels the stop this time, the way the words break. John's not looking at him any more, voice fraying at the edges, as if this is suddenly difficult for him. Part of Rook wants to stop him, to tell him he doesn't need to say any more, he doesn't need to go wherever this is going. 

But John is already biting more of it out, movements sharp, strangely directionless, the clenching of his hands rhythmic and desperate.

"And you ask yourself if this is a test, if God has one last test for you, to love someone enough that you can save them, that they'll _let_ you save them." John looks at him, forehead creased in a frown, but just as quickly he looks away again, as if he doesn't want to see Rook's expression, doesn't want to know what Rook's feeling. 

But Rook isn't sure what he's feeling either. Because it's that moment where you wonder, for just a second, what will happen when someone is gone, someone you've gotten used to having around - and you realise how much of you they'd take with them, and what you would do to stop it happening.

John isn't pacing any more, he's just a line of sharpness and thready words.

"Joseph loved us enough to come for us, to save us all, and I ask myself if I'm strong enough, if I'm as strong as he is, if I can do what he did, or whether I will just be a disappointment, to everyone. If I have already made too many mistakes, ruined everything, incapable of - of being trusted enough. Or whether I will fail, again, like I always do - like I've always done."

John looks wrecked, but it's like he can't stop, and he's not even pretending he's talking to anyone else now. He's not looking anywhere but straight at Rook.

"When everything I've been trying to do, everything, has been building to this. To making it through the collapse safely, with my family, and yet, somehow still _fucking alone_ , like I deserve it -"

Rook reaches out, catches John's cold hand, and John resists the pull, expression suddenly animated, broken and helplessly angry. 

"Don't, fucking don't."

Rook pulls him anyway, pulls him all the way in, even when John's fingernails dig into him, because Rook can't do anything else. John's bare skin is cold from standing alone in the room, when it presses and pushes against his own, when Rook draws him down into his lap, John's knees spreading at his waist, so Rook can wrap his arms around him, and hold him. 

His hands find their way into John's hair, fingers sliding through the chill of it, and John's own are still spread, at his back and shoulder. Still digging like John wants to punish Rook for knowing too much.

Rook kisses him, and John kisses him back, angry like he's decided not to care, like he's decided to own his devastation. Until John's shaken exhales sound too much like pain, and he tries to pull away. Rook doesn't let him, he rests their foreheads together, and murmurs something almost too soft for anyone to hear. Something that makes John's hands slide up his face, hold him like he wants to hear it again, and he's breathing like he's drowning, like he doesn't know what to do with Rook's confession.

The last thing either of them need is for their lives to get messier, to get harder. 

But Rook doesn't suppose they have a choice now.


End file.
